


where our touch begins

by civillove



Series: irresistible force paradox [6]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: for the anon who requested kisses, but also in this one-shot is: worried!malcolm, cookies and a relationship moving to the next level
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Series: irresistible force paradox [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658032
Comments: 12
Kudos: 127





	where our touch begins

**Author's Note:**

> notes 1: please take note of the rating, it’s that for a reason.  
> notes 2: title was inspired by this quote: “Where our touch begins, we are, and when someone touches us, we lose a bit of this definition; we become part of the other person.”

Just because she’s been through this part of the job a hundred times over doesn’t make it any easier. Dani looks down at the dried blood caked on her hands, sitting over her knuckles like a roadmap detailing what she’s been through in the last few hours.

She sighs, wanting to pinch the bridge of her nose and rub at her temples but she doesn’t want to touch her face with her hands dirty. Her fingers are trembling slightly, the rings she’s wearing temporarily stained in maroon. She wants nothing more than to go home, get cleaned up and sleep for a day or two straight.

She’s still waiting on her doctor to come back and tell her about the concussion that she knows she has. If the slight ringing in her ears and the way the fluorescent, buzzing lightbulbs are digging into her eyeballs weren’t any indication, the way her head had smacked off the floor when the perp tackled her certainly was.

Dani really hates hospitals, ever since her dad died, she couldn’t bear to be in one for longer than a few hours. She’s been lucky, ironically, that her work-related injuries have never been severe enough to stick her in a bed in a corner room with no end in sight. There’s just _something_ about the too-white walls, the disinfectant that smells like stale lemons, the hard plastic and bright metal that dig under her skin and _fester_ to a point of unsettledness.

She tries not to push things away when they bother her, she always wants to tackle issues head on, so that they can’t latch on and become a part of her. But sometimes she has her own demons to work through, and her deal with hospitals is one of them.

Which is why she’s a few seconds from grabbing her bag and leaving, against hospital advice, before anyone has a chance to talk to her. She hops down off the metal table and grounds her heels into the linoleum floor as a wave of dizziness suddenly crashes over her. She has to grab the corner of what she was sitting on so she doesn’t tumble, attempting to straighten her back into a stance of nonchalance when a nurse comes in.

“Has a doctor been in to see you yet?”

She grits her teeth on a comment that’s impolite and settles with a simple, “No.”

The nurse nods and reaches for her file, “I’ll be right back.”

_You said that twenty minutes ago_ and the door closes once again. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, checking the time, her headache roaring to life as her eyes register the bright screen.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut and attempting to count back from ten.

The door opens and closes again, “Detective Powell?”

She hums in response, a few footsteps echoing as her doctor makes her way into the room. A man in his late forties greets her when she manages to open up her eyes again, his salt and pepper hair reminding her too much of Richard Gere.

“How are you feeling?” He takes a pocket flashlight that looks like a pen and clicks it on, lifting her chin. His fingers are incredibly cold and smell like antiseptic. He shines the light directly into her eyes and she makes a soft noise when he won’t allow her face to move. “No blown pupils, that’s good.”

“I’m alright,” She says after a moment as he looks at her chart. “Just banged up.”

“And…” He trails off, playing with the corner of the sheets in his hand a moment, “Says here you hit your head off the ground.”

Dani nods, trying not to replay the scene back in her mind’s eye. She can feel the dirt-like rust of the ground beneath her as it digs into the knobs of her spine and shoulders, the sound her head made when her skull connected with the pavement, the man’s body on top of her—

“Yeah, I was tackled. Occupational hazard.” She smiles a little at the inside joke but the doctor’s mouth doesn’t even twitch. Dani clears her throat, switching gears, “Look, I’m a little dizzy, tired, my ears are ringing but I’m not nauseous.”

He hums, transcribing her symptoms on her chart before looking up at her. “I’d really like to get a CT scan before you go.”

“I’d _really_ like to go home,” She says slowly, almost through her teeth. “No offence but I’m not stickin’ around for a scan.”

Her doctor sighs before he nods his head once, not hell bent on arguing with her—not when she’s sure he has many more patients that need his attention and will probably listen to his medical advice.

“Alright, I’ll draw the paperwork up. If you have a headache that increases in pain or you can’t stop vomiting, you need to come in. Understand?”

Dani nods softly, gathering her bag up and over her shoulder before following him to the front desk in the lobby. He hands over her chart to a nurse who gives her what she needs to sign in order to leave. She scribbles her signature and offers a soft smile, making her way towards the exit.

Uber, home, shower, bed.

She repeats the mantra a few times over, getting her phone out and turning the brightness all the way down so she can order a car. When she glances up at the automatic doors sliding open, she sees a flash of blue eyes that she recognizes, a long sigh leaving her lips as Malcolm approaches her.

He’s moving quickly, his gaze assessing like he’s trying to drink in every molecule of her. His hands reach but don’t touch, mouth opening slightly as he settles on details that have to be overwhelming him: torn clothes, hair a mess of curls and dirt, blood on her cheek, her hands, her neck from her head wound, bruises skittering across her forearms.

It’s too much sensory input for him to process and for a moment he just _stares_ before his voice stutters out, “What happened?”

Dani slips her phone into her back pocket, “Please don’t tell me Gil made you my emergency contact.”

He shakes his head as if he’s trying to restart his thought process, his hand settling on her waist just for a point of contact, “JT.” One word like it’ll explain everything and it kinda does; he must have called him. “Were you seriously just about to call for an Uber?”

She scrunches her nose, “No?” But it sounds too much like a question, he doesn’t need to do any profiling to figure that one out. “I’m an adult, Bright, I can make my own decisions.”

He shakes his head but she can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, his hand briefly squeezing her waist before he offers to take her bag for her. She passes it over, feels like a small victory and despite it having a lot of stuff inside, her shoulders feel lighter because of how much her muscles ache.

Malcolm motions her to move towards the parking lot with a gentle head tilt, letting her walk on her own but hovering closer just in case. Dani runs a trembling hand through her hair, trying to brush it away from her face but she’s pretty sure her head would explode if she attempted to put it up into a ponytail right now.

She glances over at him, the profiler uncharacteristically quiet as he takes car keys out of his coat pocket.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” She says into the night air, breath leaving her lungs like puffs of cotton. The cold makes her feel better, more alert, “Ever since your father was put back in Claremont, you’ve been visiting him a lot. I figured there was a reason for that.”

“I can skip those,” Bright says quickly, almost on the tail end of her sentence. He unlocks the car at a distance, almost to their destination, “Especially if it has to do with you.”

Dani is overwhelmed with a sudden urge to touch him, to feel her skin underneath her fingertips, to lean in and press her face into the crook of his neck, breathe him in. The dried blood on her hands stops her from doing so, the idea of these hands touching him right now makes her extremely nauseated.

“I’m fine,” She feels like she says that word so much that it’s beginning to lose meaning, “Just banged up,” Dani lifts her hands, runs her thumb over one of her rings, “Dried blood is mostly…someone else’s.”

Bright gives her a look, blue eyes fogged over with concern. With worry. That comment really does nothing to make him feel any better and she sighs, tipping her head back a little—she’s not sure what to say. Everything feels like it’s coming out wrong, words sluggish, her general thinking impaired by the pounding headache that’s always in the background.

“Guy we were tracking got the jump on me, there was a scuffle. The only reason Gil made me come here is because I hit my head.”

He hums softly as they reach the car, opening up the backseat to put her bag in. She can see that switch flip on his face, the work momentarily distracting him from her as he puts pieces of a profile together. “So it _was_ the gardener.”

Dani nods, leaning against the car as she talks to him, “Yeah, just like you said. He had pictures of the woman he was working for plastered all over his walls. When I was down, JT took him out with a shoulder shot.”

He’s quiet for a moment, closing the car door. He motions her over to the passenger side, helping her in even though she doesn’t need it. Despite the fact that he can work through her walls with a few well-placed glances, she’s still getting a handle on being able to read _him._ He’s great at deflecting, at making her think she understands where he’s coming from until he blindsides her with something unexpected.

Now, though…as he gets into the driver’s side and starts the car, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel, she can tell he’s upset. And because of that, his walls are weakened, not as well guarded. She can see right through them.

“You’re angry with me,” She says after a moment, a tilt of surprised amusement coloring her tone.

“I’m not—” He shakes his head, that muscle working in his jaw, “I’m not angry. I’m just…”

“Let me guess,” She turns a little in her seat to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Worried? Sucks when someone you care about does something a little reckless and gets hurt in the process. Huh.” It’s not a question and her sarcasm is laid on thick, even to her own ears.

Malcolm shifts in his seat, letting out a long sigh before he turns his head to look at her. He understands what she’s saying but he’s not touching the conversation, stimming his fingers on the steering wheel instead. That says more to her than any words that could come out of his mouth.

She nods, “Yeah, usually it’s the other way around.”

“Dani,” He says quickly, voice a little strained. “That’s not funny.”

She shrugs her one shoulder, wincing as it aggravates a bruise on her ribs. “It’s a little funny.”

There’s a definite moment where he rolls his eyes, barely constrained patience making the lines of his shoulders tight as he pulls the car out of the parking lot. She doesn’t press, she’s made her point and the drive to his place is quiet and smothered in tension.

\--

Dani half expects him to take her home but she figures she should know better than that. She’s been spending a lot of time at his place before this and when you add another layer onto the fact that he’s worried about her, of course he takes her to where he can sleep in restraints _and_ keep an eye on her all at the same time.

As she walks into his apartment, the dark leather and chromed metal are comforting sights that settle into her bones. She walks up to Sunshine’s cage and makes a few soft sounds that the bird seems to recognize, chirping noisily at her. She smiles a little before turning to watch Bright take off his coat and hang it up, her bag following.

“Can I shower?” She asks and he nods, gesturing towards his bathroom.

Dani moves quickly to where she’s stashed a few clothes in one of his dressers, pulling out a pair of leggings and a sports bra. Bright follows her but on a different train of thought as he pulls his tie loose and puts the Harvard sweatshirt that she always seems to wear towards the center of the bed and in her eyesight.

A silent peace offering.

She glances at it before picking it up, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she makes her way into his bathroom. Pulling the glass shower door aside, she turns the water on and rests her head on the cool surface for a moment as the stream heats. When she feels grounded enough to take her clothes off, she does.

The fabric sticks to her skin in a way she doesn’t want to think about. Her shirt is ripped beyond repair and a soft pout decorates her lips as she thinks about how she’ll probably have to throw it away. She brings it up and over her head, wincing as she irritates her bruised ribs. Dani lets out a quick breath and peels her jeans off, kicking her shoes and socks to the corner of the room. Best to just get it all over with at once, hoping the heat of the shower makes her body feel less like it’s falling apart.

She dares a glance at herself in the mirror, her body littered with small purpling bruises that look worse than they feel. There’s blood splotched on the side of her neck and her fingers drag over it before following the trail up to her head. The ringing intensifies as she touches the spot that made contact with the floor, an overwhelming sense of dizziness threatening to knock her off her feet. She holds onto the sink, bending a little at her waist to _breathe,_ in and out, slowly, through her nose.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, which she appreciates. Despite this being his place, he’s trying to respect her privacy.

“Come in.” She turns as he pulls the door open. He’s changed into a pair of thin pajama pants and black Henley sweater; he’s got a towel in his hands.

Dani offers a small smile that feels tiring and reaches for it, their fingers brushing as she takes the towel to put on the sink. His eyes are all over her, dipping into the curves of her body and soft lines. She can see his hands trembling, just slightly, wanting to reach for her but not knowing how. This moment that they’re in somehow feels familiar but different all at the same time. Usually she’s angry with him when he makes stupid decisions that get him hurt, because why care about his own personal safety, right? But now _she’s_ the one who’s bruised and battered with a head wound that could have been worse.

She wants to tell him she wasn’t being careless, that she was just doing her job, but she thinks he knows that. Knows her better than she’s probably aware of, slips between her skin and bones and reads words she keeps hidden there.

“How’s your head?” He asks, the sound echoing in the small space.

“Headache is…feels like an earthquake is going on between my ears, if I’m being honest.”

Malcolm closes the distance between them, his hands cupping both sides of her neck, fingers brushing over her skin. A shiver courses down her spine at his touch, goosebumps littering her arms as he draws her closer so he can get a better look at the wound on the back of her head.

She winces when his thumb glides over a bump, her hand coming up out of instinct and grabbing onto his wrist. His eyes clock the movement, memorizing the dried blood that’s still there. A soft flush washes over her cheeks and it takes her a moment to let him go,

“Sorry, I’m still a mess. You should probably let me get into the shower. Clean up.” She clears her throat and he shakes his head, brushing his thumb over the pulse point on her neck.

“I don’t care.” And she can tell he means that. She could get him dirty with someone else’s blood and it wouldn’t make a difference, he’d still be here, touching her like he needs to remember what she feels like against him.

She closes her eyes when he presses a kiss to her forehead and tilts her chin so she can capture his lips more properly. Sometimes this is exactly how they communicate, through touch as if the words stick to lips and fingers. Dani tells him that this is all part of the job and Malcolm acknowledges that but still expresses his concern for her well-being. His hands slide down her sides, fluttering over exposed skin as they kiss, drawing her closer as if she could melt into him. And maybe she could…but not right now.

Dani pulls back after a moment, letting their foreheads rest together. “Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

He nods, licking his lips before motioning to the running shower. “You _are_ putting a tab on my water bill.”

A soft laugh tumbles out of her chest as he backs up, “Probably all pocket change for your people, huh?”

He smiles, something closer to genuine than she’s seen since he picked her up at the hospital and disappears to let her collect herself.

\--

Dani takes a long shower, she doesn’t mean to but once she’s under the stream, she can’t seem to leave. She definitely uses up all of his hot water and washes her hair twice despite the stinging that occurs when she runs her fingers over her scalp a certain way. She forgot to replace some of the things that she keeps in here, so she uses Bright’s body wash—which is a better decision, because it’s expensive and leaves her skin smelling like warm citrus, clean and soft.

She dries off with the fluffy towel that he’s brought her and pulls on her clothes, her movements slow like she’s on autopilot. Dani rubs her forehead as she leaves the bathroom, a wall of steam following her out. She’s _exhausted,_ looking at his bed with a sense of longing until she—

She takes a deep breath into her lungs; are those _cookies_ that she smells?

Dani turns the corner and is met with Bright taking something out of the oven, setting it on the counter before looking up at her. She smiles a little, chewing on her lip as she approaches what definitely looks like homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“Are you stress baking?”

He makes a face, turning off the oven before he leans his forearms onto the counter. “Why can’t it just be ‘baking’?” She gives him a look, to which he sighs and grabs a spatula. “Fine, a little stress but I find that I end up adding more chocolate chips that way.”

Dani rounds the corner of the counter, pressing a kiss on his cheek as she grabs a plate so he can pile cookies on top. “You gonna eat any of these with me?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, putting four onto the plate, avoiding the question with another. “You smell nice, you using my body wash?”

“You gonna start charging me?” She fires back, picking up a cookie that’s definitely still too warm to be messing with but she enjoys the subtle burn against her fingertips. She quickly puts some of it into her mouth before it can crumble in her hands.

She hums softly, savoring the taste of chocolate on her tongue.

Malcolm shakes his head, amusement tugging the corners of his mouth as he lifts his hand and rubs his thumb over her lower lip—her guess to remove chocolate left behind. He puts the pad of his thumb in his mouth before picking up a cookie of his own. Whether it’s to sate her worrying or because he actually wants one, she’s just glad he’s indulging with her.

They munch on cookies together, the warmth wrapping around her like a blanket on the inside. He really is a good baker, it’s kind of ridiculous that someone who rarely eats has a talent to make things so delicious. She enjoys sweets as much as the next person but she somehow always seems to burn something. She can cook just fine, but the organized patience that comes to baking has never been kind to her.

“Can we eat these in your bed?”

Bright scrunches his nose almost instantly, which only makes her laugh. He’s probably worried about crumbs but honestly for a man who has restraints built into his bedframe, she figures crumbs are the least of his problems.

“Please?” She leans her elbows on the counter, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He puts a few more cookies onto the plate once they’ve cooled, pointing a spatula at her, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Dani asks, fake innocence wrapping around her syllables.

“Pouting,” He leans forward and captures a kiss, drawing her lower lip into his mouth a moment. She smiles and brushes their noses together…before promptly stealing the plate of cookies and making her way to his bed.

“If you don’t want these cookies in bed, you’re going to have to come and get them.”

Dani piles up a few pillows before crawling in, leaning back against the headboard with the cookies on her lap. She raises a challenging eyebrow, biting into another cookie that tastes ridiculously good. A pleased noise leaves her lips and she licks chocolate from the corner of her mouth as she settles against his sheets.

She listens to Bright clean up a few things in the kitchen before making his way to her, crawling onto the bed and sinking right between her legs. His arms create a bracket around her knees, the weight of him warming her shins as his one hand settles near her hip and the other brushes fingers on the rim of the plate she’s holding.

“Don’t think I don’t see your motives, detective Powell.”

She smiles a little, finishing her piece of cookie that she still has in her hands. She reaches forward and trails her fingers through his hair just because she can, the gel from the day loosening its hold on his locks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m a profiler, you can’t get anything past me.” He smirks and while sometimes that feels annoyingly true, she thinks she’s getting better at reading him, just as he can see her.

Dani says nothing for a moment, bringing her hand down to graze his fingers that are resting on the plate. They’re quiet but the silence isn’t suffocating, it’s organic and comfortable, filled with their heartbeats and breathing. He watches her trace the skin on his hand and then—something shifts in the air.

She can feel it, a distinct crackling like lightening as he moves in bed, taking the plate and setting it on the nightstand. He inches up her body and despite her pounding headache, she lifts her head and leans in, kissing him. 

He tastes like semi-sweet chocolate, his tongue ghosting over her lips and sending a tremble down her spine. She tilts her head, letting him in, their tongues rolling together until they have to equally pull back to breathe.

Dani swallows, their foreheads brushing as they share the same air for a few moments. They’ve been here before, in this bed, wrapped up in one another…but they’ve never really taken further steps. That’s not where they’re at right now though, a disruption in their pattern, Bright bringing his hand up to cup her cheek.

His thumb traces her cheekbone, trailing down until it rests on her lower lip. She kisses the pad of his finger, allowing her eyes to close a moment to memorize how it feels to have his body draped over hers.

Bright leans up a little, supporting his weight on his one arm, the other running a hand through his hair that keeps dipping onto his forehead. His misreads her expression, “I can get you something for the pain.”

His voice is rougher, dipping into parts of her that already feel like kindled fire, “No, it’s okay. Don’t get up.” She rarely likes taking pain medication anyways with her past deals in addiction and despite how silly it sounds, having him right where he is distracts her.

He dips his chin as she opens her eyes, his hand resting on her knee and creating small circles there. Dani squirms a little from his touch, not because she’s ticklish, but because the magnetic draw of their bodies feels like they’re at the precipice of not being able to pull apart.

Malcolm pauses, just a moment, but his touch is incredibly still as he drags his hand off her knee and sinks between her legs. He brushes his fingers along the inner part of her thigh, more near her calf than anywhere else and she finds herself tipping her head back so she can absorb the sensation.

He’s operating on trial and error, like he does when he approaches a case, a profile, reading her micro-expressions so he knows exactly what she wants and what she doesn’t. When his hand moves higher and her legs move farther apart; it’s an invitation.

Blue eyes find hers, holding her gaze for a long moment and he lets out a slow breath before leaning up to kiss her. Tension gives way like a dam underneath her body, the moving of their mouths insistent and heated in a way she’s not used to. And while Bright has his own hesitations, he’s not longer straddling that line as his hands move up and under her shirt. He squeezes her body, works his touch down until his fingers are dipping underneath the waistband of her leggings.

He has never treated her like broken glass, or shards that need to somehow be fixed. Malcolm seems to think that _he’s_ the one that’s shattered, that if he touches her too fast, too insistent, or too much that he’ll somehow hurt her.

He couldn’t be more wrong and she rolls her hips up in encouragement, a soft moan following. Bright glances up at her as he pulls away, hands stilling on the fabric of her pants, “Just you.” He says after a moment and she’s not sure what he means but then he’s tugging down her leggings and underwear and slipping between her thighs—

And _oh._ That’s what he means.

This has nothing to do with him.

Malcolm takes his time, pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs, a sharp breath leaving her mouth as she tries to open up for him. Her leggings are caught on her knees and he smiles when she makes a frustrated noise.

“Don’t be a tease.”

He smirks, “Sorry.” He bites down on his lower lip as he helps her take them completely off, bending her one knee and kissing the side of it just because he can.

The scruff on his jawline is distracting yet almost pleasurable against her and he tilts her leg to the side so she can better accommodate his body. She can feel his breath against swollen skin and squeezes her eyes shut, letting her head rest back on the pillows she’s built up.

Her thighs shake in anticipation and when he finally touches her, the center of her core where heat has explicitly gathered, she feels like she might melt on contact. His mouth kisses her inner thigh while his hands do most of the work, thumb brushing over a bundle of nerves as fingers slide against and into her.

She wants to reach down and draw him closer, to roll against the touch, to maybe fist her fingers through his hair or shirt but there are too many sensations that are leading her to approach tumbling off the edge already.

Malcolm works fast, patiently creating a tempo that she sinks into. There are patterned breaths that leave her lungs, wrapped up in moans, encouraging his fingers to move faster and for him to grind against her leg. She can feel how hard he is, which only makes her feel dizzy, heat bottling up inside her and threatening to crack.

With one other swipe of his thumb and a well-placed kiss on her stomach, her resolve shatters. Dani draws her knees together, tensing around his body as she unravels, her hips moving on their own accord. She slides down the bed a little further, sinking into the pillow and sheets as Bright leaves the entrapment of her legs, squeezing her knee so she lets him up. She’s not sure how long he’s gone for, slips into the bathroom to wash up as she lies there with her eyes closed, pleasure licking her nerve endings.

He settles back beside her, pulling the sheets up and over to cover her nakedness, lying on his side as he gently brushes a hand through her curls. She licks her lips, slowly opening her eyes to look up at him, and he offers her a small smile that somehow rests in the center of her chest.

Bright leans forward and brushes a kiss on the corner of her mouth, “How’s your head?”

She makes a noise that doesn’t really give him much of a reply and he chuckles, his thumb tracing over her hairline.

“Pleasure sometimes can distract the neural receptors responsible for pain.”

And that’s cool, she’s not sure where he reads all of this stuff, doesn’t really need an explanation on why an orgasm has distracted her from a pounding headache—but the fact that he says it after being between her legs is the most _Bright_ thing she can expect from him.

She turns a little, facing him as he gets more comfortable on the pillows beside her. He leans back against the headboard, getting underneath the covers as well. “You need to sleep here tonight.”

He waves her off gently, running a hand through his hair. Dani sits up just a little so that he knows she’s serious even though she can feel fatigue starting to sit heavily in her bones.

“I mean it, I can take the couch when sensations return to my legs.”

Bright smiles, rolling his eyes as he draws her into his chest. She lies down against him, leg slipping between his as her arm maps out across his chest. She fits too perfectly against his side, tucked under his chin.

“Don’t worry about me for right now, I’m not even tired. And you’re fading fast, so soon this argument won’t even matter.”

She huffs out a soft sound, wants to put up a fight or move but he knows her too well. She sinks into him as he pulls the plate from the nightstand and sets it beside him, grabbing a cookie.

“Don’t you dare get crumbs in my hair.” She mumbles, her eyes heavily closing.

“I make no promises.” Bright says around a biteful of cookie and draws his hand up and down her back until she slips into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading and for any comments or kudos you might leave behind :)


End file.
